FROM UNDER THE BUSHEL

This delectable BMW 328 spent most of its life in disguise. Glen Waddington uncovers its story

- 

Before I could see it, I heard it. The venue was Boughton House, a summer weekend car meet in the beautiful, manicured grounds of this Northamptonshire stately home, built originally in the 17th Century by the First Duke of Montagu and known as "The English Versailles' Gracing the landscape on a sunny Sunday morning since early doors had been an eclectic mix of Jags and Astons, Mercs, Morgans and a Matra, the odd Rolls, V8 Americana and V8 TVRs, a smattering of modern hot hatches, a Lancia Aurelia B20 GT and (of course) myriad Porsches. I attended in my 1989 BMW 320i Convertible, and then suddenly I was listening to its echo, the deep and steely lap and burble of another BMW straight-six at idle. Only one with rather more depth and steeliness.

More gravitas in its note. More history.

Which is fair enough: 50 years separate the creation of this beautiful 1939 BMW 328 from that of my 320i and, while they each represent a milestone in the evolution of the marque, all they really have in common beyond a certain fastidiousness and driver-centred appeal is that 2.0-litre engine layout. I'll shut up about my mass-produced car now and instead revel in the gorgeousness of this handmade grey pre-war roadster, complete with matching disc wheels (under spats at the back, of course).

Yet all may not be as it seems. The BMW's owner might be familiar to regular readers as the same man who has the Chevrolet Firenza CanAm, the hot-rod V8-powered racer that appeared in Octane 205.

But really, Richard Wyldes is a BMW man through and through, on both two wheels and four, and he hints at this car's unusual heritage before we arrange to meet again.